


Let's Get Married

by Hashtagmavin



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Adult dating, M/M, Teenage dating, Very brief mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hashtagmavin/pseuds/Hashtagmavin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story centered around the moments when Gavin repeats the same three unexplained words to Michael, only once every year on his birthday. Michael’s never understood why Gavin says it. But it’s only when he stops that it actually begins to bother him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Get Married

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Hashtagmavin.tumblr.com

The first time he said it, we were out on our first date.

It was my sixteenth birthday, and he asked me if I wanted to go to the movies with him. I’d spent an embarrassingly long amount of my high school years crushing on the guy.

Gavin and I had been friends ever see he and his family moved over from England. So, of course, he still had the dopey British accent and slang words.

We hung out for about four years until I realized that I liked him. I spent a lot of my time trying to hide it from everybody, and trying not to stare at him like the lovesick teenager I was.

I ended up confessing it to our other friend, Ray. The three of us had been best friends throughout all of high school, and nothing could tear us apart. Always hanging out at each others houses, playing video games, and fake wrestling. Suspiciously, a week after I told Ray, Gavin asked me out on our first date.

"Do you want to go to the movies tonight, Michael?" he asked, leaning up against his closed locker, which happened to be next to mine.

I shrug mindlessly, only half paying attention to his words as I try to dig out my math book from the tornado aftermath that is my locker. “I don’t know.” I say, “I mean, it’s my birthday after all. My parents are going to want me to stay home and have cake or some shit.”

Gavin and I hangout on our own a lot. Going to the movies together isn’t something out of the ordinary. Usually it ends with me wanting to kill him over the fact that he constantly babbles pointless things in my ear or fidgets around during the movie. It’s annoying and I always end up missing important plot points, but sometimes it’s worth it to see the silly faces he’s making at me.

"Oh, okay. We’ll go on a date some other time." he says with feigned disinterest.

All of the rooting around I was doing to find my math book stops when I hear the word date. I pull my eyebrows together in confusion and look him straight in the eyes.

I can see the amusement dancing behind them, and he’s trying his hardest not to smile.

"Date?" I question.

"Yeah."

"What do you mean by date?" I glare at him with suspicion.

The grin finally breaks out across his face and he laughs, “I mean the two of us, going to see a movie together, as something more than friends.”

I scoff and roll my eyes, “I know what a date is, asshole. I mean, why are you asking me out on one?”

"Because I like you?"

"And should I just believe that it’s a coincidence you’re asking me this now, when I only just told Ray one week ago that I like  _you_?” I cross my arms and continue to glare at him.

Maybe I’m not all that big on giggles and blushes when it comes to high school crushes. But the fact that Gavin doesn’t want to run away or roll his eyes at my reaction makes me both angry and happy.

"For Ray’s personal safety, I’m going to say yes." he grins, nodding his head.

"Wipe that stupid smirk off your face," I roll my eyes and turn back to searching for my math book, "Pick me up at eight."

"Excellent." he beams. Before he walks off he pulls out a book from the bottom of the small stack he’s holding in his arms and passes it to me.

It’s my math book.

*

"What movie do you want to see?" he questions, as we stand in line at the movie theater later that day.

I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant.

It’s impossible because I’m actually on a date with Gavin. The guy who I’ve been best friends with for years, and have crushed on for just as long.

We’re still just awkward teenagers, going on our first date. It’s pretty cold outside and I wish I would have taken an extra jacket. The ticket line is outside of the actual theater itself, and it’s getting late so the air is getting even more chilly.

"You cold?" he asks.

"Nah," I shrug it off, looking up at the movie listings above the ticket stand, "We should see that Sharknado movie. It sounds pretty bad ass."

"I was just about to suggest that, my little Michael," he smiles at me. I don’t doubt it because I’ve heard him ramble on about the trailers he’d seen on TV.

I roll my eyes at the pet name, but I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my own face. The sight of it makes Gavin grin wider.

He slips his hand in mine, interlocking our fingers and absentmindedly swinging our arms a little. The feel of his palms against my own somehow warms me up, so I don’t pull away or comment on it.

This is nice. I don’t pay any attention to the soft background noise of the other people in line chatting to one another, or buying their tickets.

In movies they always show first dates as some scary thing with awkward glances and rosy cheeks. This isn’t anything like that, it’s the exact same as every other time Gavin and I have gone to the movies. But this time it’s better because his hand is in mine.

"Let’s get married." he says, nodding to himself with a satisfied smile.

I react the same way as I did earlier when he asked me out on this date. “What?”

"You and me. Married. It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?" his delighted look doesn’t really tell me if he’s joking or not.

Gavin’s famous for this kind of shit. Just spewing off random ideas or thoughts at the top of his head, and saying them out loud without giving any indication on if he’s serious or not.

I roll my eyes at him and notice that we’re next in line to get our tickets.

"Shut up, idiot." I mutter at him before turning to the woman behind the glass, "Two tickets for Sharknado please."

_

 

By my seventeenth birthday we’d already gone out on twenty-two individual dates.

But who’s counting, right?

We’d started to refer to one another as boyfriends, and shared intimate kisses behind closed doors. Usual teenage relationship crap, but I loved every second of it.

I completely forgot about that thing he said outside of the movie theater, and it was only an exact year later that he’d said it to me again.

Although we were just as affectionate with one another as other couples, we tended to fall into the habit of acting like friends. Some days we were all over one another, and others we were just sitting around playing video games.

As seventeen year old boys, this sounds pretty normal. Television and movies very often send across the message that video games and sex are the only things swirling around teenage boys’ heads. It seemed pretty accurate for the two of us sometimes.

This is probably also why we spent my birthday that year playing Halo downstairs in my parent’s den.

You reach a point in your teenage years where you’re too old for childish parties, but you’re too young to drink alcohol to celebrate. You end up falling into this attitude of “I don’t give a shit that it’s my birthday. Let’s just play some stupid games.”

Gavin had no problem with it, and judging by the loud squeals he’d let out every time I murdered his character, he was actually having fun.

You’d think after playing this game so much we’d get sick of it. Sometimes I think I play it only for his benefit. Gavin’s stated numerous times that it’s his favorite game, I really like it too but not to the extent he does.

Maybe the fact that I’m willing to play  _his_ favorite game on  _my_  birthday, just proves how far I’ve fallen for this moron.

"Michael" he cries, "That wasn’t fair at all!"

"Deal with it." I snicker, his complaints amusing me.

He sighs and relaxes his arms, letting them fall to his lap as he tilts his head back against the couch.

"What?" I ask, not bothering to pause the game as I turn to him.

He gives me the tiniest smile as he looks back at me, “Let’s get married.” he murmurs.

I roll my eyes. I’d been expecting him to say something serious if he was willing to stop playing the game for it. You’d think I would know better by now, I have been dating the guy for a year after all.

"Just restart the match, moron."

_

 

At eighteen my family threw me this completely unnecessary surprise birthday party.

I’d promised them I would stay home during my birthday weekend. I hadn’t been spending as much time with my parents as I would like to, and I’d been feeling guilty because of it.

So as I walked into the house and flicked on the light, I almost had a heart attack when a loud chorus of “Surprise!” was screamed at me.

Although I’m not usually one to be easily frightened, this completely caught me off guard and I jump almost three feet in the air.

I look up immediately to see my parents, Gavin, aunts, uncles, and friends all with their arms up in the air, excited smiles across their faces. Judging by the look on Gavin’s, I can assume he’s had something to do with this.

Even though I hate surprise parties, I throw my head back and laugh. It’s nice to have an actual birthday every once in a while, with an actual cake, banners, and balloons. It’s like a dip back into childhood.

Everybody cheers and laughs in celebration in their success at surprising me. It’s nice to see all of my relatives and friends in one place, it makes me feel lucky to have so many people care about me.

Gavin bounces over to me and wraps his arms around my neck tightly. “Were you surprised, Michael?” he asks.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, trying to keep the smile off my face, "I was surprised."

"Brilliant! That’s what we were going for." he informs me. I scoff and resist the urge to sarcastically mutter ‘No shit.’

I spend the next hour or two talking to the friends and family that were involved in this. We laugh, joke, and have a good time. Gavin’s hand is in mine the entire time.

"Michael, come on, it’s cake time!" my mother calls out from the kitchen.

Gavin seems to be more excited about it than I am, because he literally drags me to the kitchen himself. Before we even enter the room everybody is already singing happy birthday at the top of their lungs.

The lights have been turned off, and the dim glow of the candles on the birthday cake placed in front of me is the only thing that allows me to see anything.

“ _…Happy Birthday, dear Michael…_ " they continue singing.

The cake is a plain and simple vanilla frosted cake, with the words “Happy Birthday, Michael” written across the top in bright red icing.

I can feel Gavin’s hand on my shoulder as he leans in close to me. I assumed he was just being overly affectionate and clingy since he was still so happy from the party, but just before the song ends he whispers the words softly into my ear.

"Let’s get married."

“ _Happy birthday to you!_ " everybody finishes singing, and I ignore him as I blow out the candles.

Everybody claps and cheers and when the lights turn back on. Gavin’s smile is the widest in the room.

_

 

When people turn nineteen, they usually spend the day just relaxing or pampering themselves. One would think that’s how I would spend my day, no stressing over dumb things.

Of course, my birthdays are always different.

Gavin had decided that since we’ve finally moved in together, we’d spend the first night in our new apartment having dinner together.

It wasn’t very often that we had home cooked meals together. The most we’d ever do is go out to a restaurant or grab some fast food. We were never ones for over the top cheesy romantic dates.

But Gavin insisted, because not only did we just get an apartment together, it was also my birthday. I agreed on the condition that there would be no birthday cake, and no mentions of it being my birthday at all.

I personally thought the two of us moving in together was much bigger deal than my own birthday, and I didn’t want to turn a relationship milestone into something that was just about me rather than us both.

He spent the day in the kitchen, forcing me to stay in the living room while he cooked whatever it was he was cooking. If I so much as got off the couch he’d start yelling and telling me that it wasn’t ready yet. I’d do it just because it was amusing to see him so panicky.

"It’s done!" he finally calls out. I look at the clock next to the television and see that it’s around six o’clock.

When I walk into the kitchen my eyes widen in disbelief, “You cooked an entire turkey for the  _two_ of us?”

He shrugs, while grinning at his work, “Yeah, why not? It’s our first meal together as a couple living under the same roof.”

I shake my head but have to chuckle at his commitment. Sometimes he likes to take things a little too seriously, but that’s probably why I love him.

I love Gavin.

I realize it halfway through eating my plateful of dinner, sitting across from him and listening to his constant rambling. A never ending babble of science and ridiculous theories about legs not knowing they’re legs. I’m used to hearing him saying dumb shit like this.

But what I’m not used to is realizing how much I actually enjoy it. Gavin and I have been together for three years now, but we’ve never said those three words to one another.

It’s true though. I actually do love the guy. His messy hair, his green eyes, his big nose, his British accent. I could go on forever about the things that I like about him.

"Michael?" I hear him ask, and it snaps me out of my thoughts. I feel like a guilty teenage girl that’s been caught writing notes about her crush in class. "Are you okay? You-"

Without hesitation or any thoughts on what negative actions this could bring forth, I interrupt him.

"I love you."

It’s silent for a few moments, his face not exactly expressionless. More of a cross between surprise and thought. He blinks a few times, as though he hasn’t exactly processed the words yet.

This might not exactly work out well in my favor. I only realized after I said it that this could end very badly. Some couples break up over saying ‘I love you’ too soon. What if he just scoffs and brushes off the words as though they mean nothing.

I shift a little in my seat, ready to apologize and tell him to forget about it, but as soon as I open my mouth he does the same.

"I love you too." as the words leave his mouth, he smiles and a blush forms across his perfect cheeks.

I let out a relieved sigh and allow the happiness to wash over me. “Thank God.”

He snickers, “What? Did you think I wasn’t going to say it back?”

"Well, you did pause for a long time," I point my fork at him accusingly.

"Dramatic effect." he states, and then looks at me with a serious look in his eyes, "As if I could ever not be desperately in love with your little squish face."

"What does that even mean?" I question, trying not to laugh at his ridiculous description of me.

He doesn’t answer the question, and his face softens as he once again states the words, “Let’s get married.”

I scoff and chuckle, remembering all of the other times he’s said it to me, “That’s really starting to get old, Gav.”

_

 

On my twentieth birthday, Gavin made no mention of it the day before. Usually he bounces around for weeks, babbling nonstop and saying things like “Only two more days until your birthday, Michael! Aren’t you excited?”

But he didn’t that year. We spent the week before my birthday, making no mention of it. Which was something I was very okay with. It’s not like I was going to remind him.

It’d never get pissed at Gavin for forgetting my birthday. That seems like such a cliche thing to get in a argument with your partner over, but I’ve never seen the downside.

If Gavin ever forgot my birthday, it would honestly be like a dream come true.

So when I’m shaken awake by Gavin, and my eyes open to darkness, I want to let out a loud groan. Of course he didn’t forget, Gavin is an annoying prick like that.

I glance over at the clock to see that it’s 3:30 in the morning. I’ve only been twenty for three and a half hours.

"What?" I growl at him, not even giving him the satisfaction of turning towards him in bed.

"Happy birthday, Michael!" I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes me want to wring his neck.

"It’s the middle of the night, go to sleep."

He makes a noise of disapproval at my annoyance, and pulls on my shoulder.

I groan before finally giving around and turning towards him. He’s grinning wide and I want to punch him in the face for waking me up.

"Okay, okay," he smiles, bringing his face closer to mine, "Good night, Michael."

He pecks me on the lips happily, not caring that I don’t bother to kiss back. It’s too early for this bullshit.

He snuggles in close to me, and I wrap an arm around his waist to hold him closer. Almost as if to say that I forgive him for being such an idiot.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, the only sound filling the room is our breathing as we try to fall back asleep. I’m about to succeed in doing so when Gavin opens his big dumb mouth again.

"Hey, Michael?" he whispers.

I suppress the urge to sigh. At least it was nice while it lasted.

"Yeah?"

"Let’s get married."

"Oh my God." I groan, "Go the fuck to sleep."

_

 

My twenty-first birthday was spent alone.

It was my first birthday in five years that I’d spent without Gavin at my side. It felt strangely lonely not having him with me.

He’d told me the day before that he had to work late, and wouldn’t be home until late into the night. I knew that he was stressing over getting the new video edited and uploaded on time. He continued to apologize and whine the entire day until I told him repeatedly that it was okay. I honestly didn’t mind.

Both of us work at a small company called “Rooster Teeth” that makes a internet machinima show and allows us to play video games as a job. We’ve worked there now for about two years, and were hired after they watched our videos online.

Gavin and I started making dumb internet videos where we play games together, and I scream at him for being an idiot during it. They eventually got the attention of the popular company, which we were both fans of, and it didn’t take us long until we were actually working for them. It was like a dream come true, honestly.

Yeah it sucked not being able to spend the day with my boyfriend, but that’s life. Sometimes it sucks, and not everything goes according to plan. I just happened to have the day off, and I wasn’t going to go into work just to keep Gavin company all day.

When I’d woken up, my phone had two missed calls, and four text messages. All from Gavin.

_Gavin Free: Happy Birthday, my little boy!_

_Gavin Free: Are you awake yet?_

_*Missed call from Gavin Free*_

_Gavin Free: Answer your phone, you silly sausage!_

_*Missed call from Gavin Free*_

_Gavin Free: Fine, sleep your entire birthday away. See if I care. Call me when you wake up though so I can wish you a very happy birthday by voice._

They were all sent at about eight o’clock in the morning, as if I’d even be awake then. Gavin just gets way too excited about my birthday.

I figure I’ll call him later, mainly just to humor him but to also hear him cry out the words “Happy Birthday, Michael!” in the middle of his workplace.

After deciding on eating first instead of showering, I walk out into the kitchen after throwing on a pair of pants.

That’s the best thing about spending your birthday alone, no need to put any effort into my appearance. Not that I try to look nice for Gavin’s sake, it’s just easier to be a lazy slob without him bouncing around.

A tiny yellow sticky note, that’s stuck to the door of the fridge, catches my eye when I walk into the kitchen. Judging by the messy scrawl, it’s Gavin’s handwriting. I’ve become something of an expert at figuring out his child-like chicken scratch writing.

“ _Let’s Get Married_ " it reads, written with a red sharpie.

I roll my eyes, and crumple the note in my hand after pulling it off of the refrigerator.

Every goddamn year, even when he isn’t here.

_

 

Gavin and I were always fans of alcohol.

We were constantly going to parties and getting drunk off our asses. So when our close friend Geoff Ramsey threw me a birthday party, it was no surprise that the two of us were loaded by the end of the night.

With the exception of Ray, and a few others, mostly every single one of our friends were at that party and completely drunk.

Geoff’s house parties were always the best. The guy was like a dad to us, and we both worked with him, so we’re good friends with him. He and his wife Griffon are both amazing people and whenever one of us needs advice for anything, they’re always the first people we go to.

Sometimes it’s not so family-ish with them, and we spend nights partying at their house for hours while getting completely wasted. It’s no surprise that Geoff would throw a party for me, regardless of how many times I told him not to.

"It’s not a party for  _you,_ " he had stated, "It’s just a party in general."

Of course I didn’t believe him, especially when Gavin was nodding along with that big grin on his face.

It could have been worse though, they could have bought me a cake and put up balloons or banners around the house. Although the party is obviously for me, the only proof of that are the numerous drunk people yelling out “Happy birthday, Michael!” and “Great birthday party, Michael!”

I can’t even count how many beers I’ve had, but I know that it is a significant amount less than Gavin.

At least I’m able to stand up straight without completely losing my balance every few seconds. His words are slurred and he’s constantly leaning against people for support.

I’m talking to our friends Barbara and Lindsay when I hear Geoff burst out laughing from across the room.

I know that laugh.

That’s the “Gavin is about to do something really stupid” laugh.

I turn away from the girls immediately and begin to scan the room for my boyfriend, hoping that he isn’t making stupid bets with people again. Once he bet somebody that he and Geoff could jump off the roof and into the swimming pool. They ended up doing it, but my heart nearly lept out of my chest while watching.

Gavin, alcohol, and high places usually do not mix well.

Which is why I let out a loud groan when I see him standing on the kitchen table, a beer in each hand. But he isn’t just holding them, they’re literally duct taped to his palms.

"Better go take care of Edward Fortyhands." Barbara snickers. Both she and Lindsay were smart enough to not get completely wasted at this party. I wish I could say the same for Gavin.

"May I have your attention please!" he yells out at the top of his lungs.

I should have known better than to have let Gavin leave my sight for ten minutes.

Although we’re in a house filled with our close friends, everybody still immediately looks up when they hear the British accent.

Sometimes it’s like a super power that he can’t control and loves to abuse. It’s so easy for him to get all of the attention in the room in such a short amount of time. Maybe it’s because people classify that accent as ‘important’ and ‘distinctive’.

But judging by how wobbly Gavin is on his own two feet up there, whatever comes out of his mouth now is going to be complete bullshit.

"Gavin, get down!" I yell at him as I walk towards the table.

"Shhh!" he says back, "I’ve got an announcement!"

"I’m going to fucking kill you." I state.

He grins and opens his eyes real wide as he yells out, “It’s Michael Jones twenty-second birthday!”

I roll my eyes but have to smile at his childish behavior as the entire room bursts into cheers. Drunken screams of “Yeah, Michael!” “Happy birthday, Michael!” and “You the man, Michael!”

"Happy birthday to you!" he starts singing, gesturing hugely with his arms in an attempt to get everybody to sing along. I burst out laughing at that and watch as he sways back and forth on the table, panicking a little every time he tips just a little  _too_ much.

It takes a shockingly short amount of time for the entire room to start singing along with him. They reach the last line of that song until Gavin realizes that his work is done. He jumps down from the table and next to me. He’d have fallen flat on his face if I hadn’t reached my arms around his waist and caught him.

When the song is finished, everybody bursts out into cheers again, trying to make the most amount of noise possible. Gavin lazily reaches up and wraps his arms around my neck to keep himself up right. I can feel the beer bottles against the back of my head.

He cheers just as loudly as everybody else, and I laugh just as loud. I’m too drunk to actually be annoyed with him for drawing so much attention to my birthday.

Everybody is still yelling and chatting to one another excitedly when his smile softens and he hugs me closer to him. He affectionately nuzzles his face into the side of my head.

I laugh louder and ignore him when he whispers the slurred words, “Let’s get married,” into my ear.

_

 

Birthday’s aren’t always loud and chaotic like that though. On my twenty-third birthday, Gavin and I spend the entire day together. Just the two of us, alone in our apartment, watching movies, drinking a few bevs, and spending a lot of time under the sheets without any clothes on.

The room is dark, as it’s almost night by now, and I start to wonder if it’s worth it to put on clothes before going to sleep. It’s obvious that Gavin isn’t going to, but I have no complaints about that.

We’re still sweaty and gross, still out of breath, but sometimes just the feeling of having him close to me is enough to forget about any downsides. He smirks at me, and then gets comfortable.

His chin resting on his folded arms, which are resting against my bare chest. Our legs are tangled together and buried beneath the blankets.

I’ve known Gavin long enough now to know when he’s about to say something, and judging by the look in his eye he’s about to say or suggest something important.

"What?" I raise an eyebrow, waiting patiently for him to speak.

"Let’s get married," he murmurs softly.

I grab the pillow next to me and smack him upside the head with it.

_

 

While driving home from the office on my twenty-fourth birthday, Gavin was very excitable.

"Did you have a good day?" he questions, repeatedly pressing the window button over and over again.

"Sure, whatever," I shrug, and then take a hand off the wheel to smack his shoulder, "Stop playing with the window. What are you, six years old?"

He doesn’t respond to the question, but stops anyways. Instead he focuses on my bitter attitude at the mention of the day. “Why aren’t you more excited about your own birthday?”

"Because birthdays are dumb."

"Nu-uh!" he cries, "You always act like birthdays are pointless, but they’re tons of fun!"

"Although I’m thankful for it, nothing birthday related actually happened today." I point out, "Everybody wished me a happy birthday, and I got a thousand tweets, but other than that it was just a normal day."

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Why are you so boring?”

"Because birthdays are boring."

He grins, “Luckily I’m here to brighten it up!”

Before I can respond he turns up the radio as loud as it can go and starts singing along to the song playing. His voice is terribly off-key as he sings at the top of his lungs.

"Gavin!" I yell, reaching over to smack him again, "That’s fucking loud! Turn it down! We’re gonna get in a car wreck!"

He ignores me, and continues to sing along. Both his voice and the music ring through my ears and I’m positive I’m going to be deaf by tomorrow. But I have to admit that it’s funny and it’s not very long until I’m laughing just as loud as he’s singing.

Gavin pays no attention to this as he dramatically grabs me by the arm and turns as though he’s singing to me.

I try to shove him away without letting it disrupt my driving, but he just grins wider at the sight of me laughing.

I roll my eyes and continue to sing along too. A mockingly desperate expression on my face that matches Gavin’s.

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

We spend the next few minutes just driving in my car and screaming out the lyrics to the song as loud as we possibly can as though our lives depend on it. Laughing between breaths and holding our stomachs every few seconds because our stomachs our beginning to hurt.

We must look like complete fools to the cars around us.

The song fades to an end, and we dissolve into childish giggles, leaning back into our seats trying to catch our breaths. Gavin really is good at brightening up my day.

It’s quiet for a few moments, and he turns in his seat to look at me, still smiling from ear to ear.

"Let’s get married," he says, his voice slightly hoarse from all of the screaming and singing.

"I swear to God," I’m still chuckling, but I grip the steering wheel is playful annoyance as I threaten him, "I  _will_  crash this car.”

_

 

We spend a lot of time swimming during our breaks from work.

Gavin affectionately refers to it as “Lunch time swimmy bevs” due to the amount of beers we drink during it.

"Michael!" he yells out, crazily bouncing up and down in the water, "Fight me, Michael!"

His voice isn’t slurred much but judging by how excited he is by the thought of wrestling, he’s a little drunk.

I laugh at him, and take another swig from my drink, “Stay the hell away from me.”

"Let’s wrestle!" he shouts, ignoring my demand and trying to tackle me into the water. But since he’s a total weakling I don’t have to put up much of a fight to stay in one place.

"Come on, Michael!" he cries, "It’s your birthday, let’s fight a little!"

I raise an eyebrow and put my beer down on the side of the pool, “Why should I have to do anything for  _you_ on  _my_ birthday?”

"Because I asked nicely," he smiles innocently.

"I don’t want you to drown or die due to your own stupidity, so I’m going to say no."

Water is probably not the best place for a drunk Gavin Free.

"Aww, Michael," he coos, wrapping his arms around me affectionately, "You care so much about me."

"No idea why," I murmur, absentmindedly pressing a kiss onto his forehead. He hums in satisfaction before pulling away from me.

"Let’s get married," he whispers, enthusiasm shining in his eyes.

I don’t respond, and just dunk his head under the water in retaliation.

_

 

When I woke up on my twenty-sixth birthday, I almost expected to wake up hearing it.

I didn’t take me long to catch onto the trend after all these years. Him just saying those simple three little words, every year on the same day. Never skipping a year, or rephrasing the simple sentence in anyway.

I never questioned it or tried to talk about it. He would never say anything else about it before or afterwards. Never giving any hints of marriage or saying those words around me any other day of the year.

But on my birthday every year without fail, he would always say “Let’s get married.” It didn’t matter if we were alone, with a group of people, or if he wasn’t even there at all.

I was used to it. You reach a point where something is constant in your life, and you just know that it’s going to happen, whether you like it or not. I always reacted negatively to those words by playfully hitting him, brushing it off, or calling him an idiot. But maybe that wasn’t because I didn’t like it. I would deny until I was blue in the face that hearing him say those words made my heart leap just a little bit.

Back when we were just two dumb teenagers going on their first date, his hand so warm in mine, when he said those meaningless words, they still made my insides buzz with a soft happiness.

I liked it so much that hearing him say those words could sometimes mean more to me than hearing him say “I love you.”

I wake up that morning with him snuggled into my side, poking my cheek with his finger. After letting out a groan at being woken up, I open my eyes to see his smile. Figures that he’d be super excited over somebody else’s birthday.

"Good morning to you too?" I ask, smirking at his happiness. It’s always a pleasure to wake up like this. To see Gavin’s eyes lighting up at the prospect of starting a new day, his hair messier than usual, wearing minimal (if any) clothing.

Mainly just being able to wake up to him is the best thing in my life right now. I know it sounds cheesy, but I don’t mind being woken up like this if it means getting to spend the day with somebody that I’m completely in love with.

"Happy birthday, Michael!" he cries, the grin widening.

I laugh and squeeze his sides, knowing that he’s the most ticklish there. He lets out a loud squeal and begs me to stop.

"Michael! Michael, stop! You’ve  _got_  to stop being horrible!” he cries between his laughter.

"What?" I ask, feigning innocence as I continue to tickle him, "But you’re _laughing._ ”

He tries to close his mouth so that he isn’t laughing so loudly, but it only succeeds in making me tickle him more, “No!” he yells.

"I mean," I shrug playfully, "Why would you be laughing if you didn’t like being tickled? That’s what people do when they like something, right? They laugh! _You_  appear to be laughing!”

This continues on for a few more moments until he manages to squirm out of my grasp. It ends badly for him though because he moved so much that he falls off the bed.

Normally boyfriends would gasp and feel guilty for harming their partner in any way, but hearing Gavin groan in pain from the floor just makes me laugh louder.

I’m wide awake now, nothing like a morning torture session to wake a guy up in the morning.

"You’re terrible." Gavin states as he gets up off the ground, but his smile gives him away.

"You love me," I smirk, and he just rolls his eyes because he knows I’m right.

"Come on," he gestures to the door that leads to the bathroom before holding a hand out to me, "Let’s go have a birthday shower!"

I raise an eyebrow but take his hand anyway, allowing him to pull me from the bed and to my feet. “Birthday shower?”

"Yeah!" he says, dragging me to the door by my hand, "The perfect way to start your birthday day!"

"I’m pretty sure it’s just called a birthday" I scoff.

"Are you saying no to the shower?" he teases.

"Oh no. By all means," I gesture to the door myself, "Lead the way."

So he didn’t say the words that morning. But how often does he really say them in the morning anyways? My only complaint is that it’s nice to hear them while we’re still in bed, pressed close to one another and it’s easier to smack him for being a moron.

*

I completely forgot about it while we went to hang out with our friends later that day.

I had to practically beg everybody not to make a big deal of my birthday and throw some kind of party. They all reluctantly agreed for the most part, but that didn’t actually stop them.

"Tell me again how this isn’t a birthday party?" I ask Gavin, as he grabs another beer from the open cooler and hands it to me.

"What do you mean? This isn’t a party, it’s a barbecue." he smirks.

There’s no denying that, but it’s also pretty obvious that it’s still a party. All of our friends are here, eating food, drinking beer, and chatting among themselves. This isn’t the first of Burnie’s barbecue’s that we’ve been to, but I can’t really complain because they’re always fun.

It’s even a nice day out. It isn’t too hot, but a few people are casually swimming around in the pool. You can faintly hear the sound of music over everybody’s talking, someone’s probably hooked up their Ipod to the stereo.

The air smells of barbecue, fresh cut grass, beer, and chlorine from the pool. It’s nice. Maybe I don’t really mind spending my birthday like this after all.

"Hey, Michael!" Geoff yells from the other side of the lawn, "Happy Birthday!"

That causes everybody else to turn to me and yell the same thing. Gavin giggles while I groan at the attention.

God, do I ever hate birthdays. Even just the act of hating birthdays makes me sound like an old man. Don’t people usually dispose birthday’s when they’re forty or something?

We stand with Kara and Chris, chatting with them for a bit and laughing. It’s still only around four o’clock, so we’ve got plenty of time to just waste the day away. The more time we spend here, the less I have to deal with birthday nonsense.

"So, are you two going anywhere special for today?" Barbara asks us afterwards.

Of course I wouldn’t be lucky enough to get away from the subject for the rest of the day. If Gavin wasn’t going to remind me of it, somebody else was going to. Barbara’s always been big on birthdays, so this isn’t really a surprise.

I’m about to answer her and say no, but Gavin interrupts me.

"Yup!" he smiles, "We’re going to that fancy new restaurant that just opened up."

I raise an eyebrow and look at him, but he just smirks and refuses to meet my eye.

"Oh my gosh, really?" Kara squeals, "I hear it’s really good!"

"Hence why we’re going," he chuckles, wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing me closer.

"We are?" I whisper into his ear, trying to sound annoyed at the ordeal.

He just laughs louder.

*

We lay in bed that night, his arms wrapped around my waist and his face buried into my neck. His soft breathing informs me that he’s still awake.

I’m awake too, but that’s only because I’m watching the digital clock on our nightstand.

In bright red numbers, it reads “ _11:59PM_ ”

He still hasn’t said it yet today.

Not during our fancy dinner at that new restaurant. Not on the car ride home, or the walk up to our apartment. Not while we watched a scary movie while cooped up on the couch for the rest of the night.

Did he forget? He couldn’t have, he never forgets. He’s said it every year without fail. Why would he forget  _this_ year?

I feel his grip tightening on me and he pulls me a little closer to him, as though my presence will help him fall asleep faster. I don’t pay any attention to it, and just continue to watch the clock. Just waiting for him to say those three words, just seconds before the minutes ends.

It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s said it at random times before. Usually it’s when I forget all about it, but this year I’ve just been waiting for it. Actually excited for him to say it so that I can roll my eyes and pretend that it’s annoying.

Something about it just makes my stomach fill up with butterflies. The expression on his face is always so thoughtful and loving, as though he’s actually being serious.

Maybe I’ve just started taking this too seriously. It’s just three dumb little words. They haven’t meant anything since our first date, and they still don’t mean anything now. So why am I panicking so much over him not saying them?

_12:00AM_

I lay there for a few quiet moments, just staring at the numbers.

My birthday is over.

Gavin didn’t say it.

What the fuck.

"Hey, Gavin?" I whisper. He responds with a soft grunt, which causes me to roll my eyes and repeat, "Gavin?"

"What?" he finally asks. His voice is groggy and tired, so his British accent is thicker than usual.

"You didn’t say it." I state outright, trying not to let the disappointment evident in my voice.

He must hear it because that seems to wake him up and I feel him shuffle around so that he can’t doze off during the conversation. We’ve never really been a couple to have serious conversations or talks, but when we do, it’s usually at the most random times. He must sense that I’m talking about something important.

"Huh?" he asks as I turn around in bed to look at him.

He’s propped up on his elbow, resting his head against his hand. His eyes show concern, worried that he’s done something to upset me.

"Every year you just… You say it." I only end up murmuring the words, "And you didn’t say it today."

His eyebrow quirks in confusion, “Say what?”

He forgot.

"I…" I’m about to explain it, to demand an explanation or to remind him. As though hearing him say it now will fix everything. Like he’s just pretending that didn’t remember, and just wants to watch me try to explain it.

But when I look into his eyes and see that he genuinely has no idea what I’m talking about, I stop myself.

"Never mind." I mutter, and turn around to face away from him, "Forget I said anything."

"Michael?" he questions, not wanting to drop the subject if I’m upset.

"Just shut up and go to sleep, Gavin."

It’s silent for a few moments, but eventually he does settle back into bed and rewraps his arms around my waist.

I try not to feel too disappointed as I fall asleep.

_

 

It’s hard not to be depressed the next day.

I’ve never realized how much I liked hearing him say it. Yeah, it was just some dumb joke, and he was just doing it to be a moron, but I liked it. I enjoyed the consistency of hearing it every year.

Maybe he just got annoyed with my reactions toward it.

But Gavin’s always being annoying just to bug me, and getting me angry is what he’s always setting out to do. Does he really think  _that_  is what’s crossing the line?

Maybe trying to figure him out is just a huge waste of time. As if he’d actually put thought into anything. I’m just looking into this too much.

"Are you okay?" his voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

I look up from my bowl of cereal with wide eyes, “Huh?”

"I asked if you were okay," he says slowly, concern showing on his face, "You’ve been staring down at your bowl for the last five minutes."

"Oh, sorry," I murmur, shaking my head, "Just thinking about stuff."

He quirks an eyebrow, “Is this about last night?”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gavin."

I don’t really want him to bring it up, I’d rather just sweep it under the rug and pretend that he’s never said those words to me ever.

"But last night you-"

I cut him off with a glare, and snap, “Just shut up, Gavin. It doesn’t matter, okay?”

He nods, knowing that I’m just in a bad mood and that he shouldn’t take it personally. But I still see the sheepish look on his face as he tries to change the subject in some way, “Do you have to record a Rage Quit today?”

"Yeah."

The conversation drops, and I feel bad for making Gavin feel guilty.

_

 

The best thing about recording a Rage Quit is that I’m able to get out any pent up frustration through it. Screaming into a microphone for an hour tends to make you feel better after a bad day.

Gavin’s been strangely quiet all day, avoiding me and being all secretive. I can’t imagine him being upset with me in anyway. I haven’t done anything to him lately other than my little tantrum last night and this morning. Just something else that I’m able to think about while I scream at the shitty side scroller game.

I’m still a little bummed about yesterday. But after finishing playing the stupid game I feel a little better, despite the pain in my throat from yelling so loud.

I lean back in my chair and sigh, getting ready to take a small break after such a draining recording.

A knock on the door takes my attention away from the computer screen. It’s not very often that somebody comes to the Achievement Hunter office while I’m recording a Rage Quit, but I guess they’re just lucky that I’ve finished.

"What?"

The door opens and Burnie’s head pokes in, giving me a sheepish smile. “Hey, Michael. You finished recording?”

"Yeah," I nod, "Why? What’s up?"

"We need you out in the annex for a few minutes," he says quickly, and before I can respond he’s gone. Completely closing the door behind him and walking away.

I scoff and roll my eyes.

Somebody’s probably brought food to the office and everybody is already pigging out on it. At least Burnie was nice enough to come inform me before it’s completely devoured by our greedy employees.

I let out a groan as I raise from my desk chair and leave the room. Burnie must have left quickly because he’s no where in sight.

Actually, there’s nobody around.

I raise an eyebrow and peek into the open door of Gus’ office, but there’s nobody in there either.

Usually people are walking around, doing their job or such things, but right now there isn’t a soul in sight.

What the fuck is going on? Is there something  _that_ important happening in the annex that everybody’s completely ditched work in favor of it?

I walk down the hallways, just listening for any signs of human life. It’s so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. I’m used to hearing laughter, talking, and the occasional screaming from somebody punching Gavin.

Did somebody die? What the fuck?

I walk into the annex hesitantly, expecting there to be some kind of extravagant prank.

But everybody is just standing around in a half circle, their phones in their hands, chatting to one another quietly.

"Uh, hello?" I question, getting everybody’s attention.

They all look up at me at the same time, their eyes wide but filled with excitement.

I realize that pretty much every single member of the company is here, watching me. As though something is going to happen. Some of the girls are grinning, and I notice Barbara fighting with Gavin.

"I can’t do it, I can’t do it," I hear him saying to her as she pushes him to the center, away from everybody else.

I raise an eyebrow and walk closer. Once Gavin sees me his eyes widen, he stops fighting with her, and I can almost see the panic racing in his head.

"Hi, Michael," he says quietly, adding in a little wave.

"What’s going on, Gav?" I question as I look around at our co-workers, who are all watching. It’s making me feel a little uneasy, like somebody’s going to drop a bucket of pig’s blood on us or something.

"I, uh…" he starts, his voice a little shaky, "I wanted to talk to you."

It’s only then that I link everything together.

Everybody being silently secretive today, Gavin avoiding me, the entire building being quiet during my walk here, everybody silently watching us with their Iphone whipped out (presumably filming), and the nervous look on my boyfriend’s face.

I smile, relief and joy filling my head. But I don’t get much time to think through or process all of this because I see Gavin let out a deep breath before he starts talking.

"I meant to do this yesterday at the restaurant, but I chickened out because I’m an idiot. When I told everybody they all yelled at me and forced me to do it now. Which, I must say, is actually  _more_  nerve wracking.”

I snicker, and raise my eyebrows as though I have no idea what’s going on, “Get on with it then.”

"I love you." he states, looking me straight in the eyes, "From the bottom of my heart. I’ve loved you ever since we went on that first date and you got embarrassed when I held your hand. Even when we fight and you call me an idiot, or when you’re forced to take care of me because I’m too drunk to stand up straight."

I smirk at that, but don’t interrupt him.

"Those dumb little moments mean a lot to me. Just like how  _you_  mean a lot to me. And I want to continue having those moments with you… for the rest of my life. So before this gets even cornier than it already has, I’m just going to get on with it.” he sighs as though mustering up his last bit of courage, and pulls out a box from his jeans pocket.

My eyes widen but I still smile when I know what’s coming. Even though it’s incredibly embarrassing to admit, I tear up a little as he gets down on one knee. His eyes not leaving mine the entire time.

"Michael Jones," he starts off, his voice shaking a little, "Will you marry me?"

I purposely wait a few moments to answer, just to torture him. But I can only last a few seconds until the grin takes over my face and I laugh while yelling, “Of course, you moron!”

He grins just as wide and stands up to launch himself at me in a hug. I squeeze him so tightly, as though he’s going to disappear if I let him go.

I’m actually getting married. I’m getting married to Gavin. The guy I’ve spent almost half of my life with. But I’m already excited to spent the rest of it with him. To wear rings and proudly call each other husbands. To deal with his stupid pranks and jokes everyday.

I’m fucking ready for it.

I’ve never been so ready for something in my entire life.

I can hear our co-workers all clapping and cheering for us. But I tune it out, only focusing on the feeling of Gavin in my arms, his body radiating with joy at my answer.

He pulls away a little, but before he does he whispers the short sentence into my ear for the last time.

"Let’s get married."

This time I don’t smack him. I don’t call him an idiot or brush it off as though it’s nothing.

I just smile and nod my head, watching the happiness in his eyes and listening to the cheers that fill the room.

"Okay."


End file.
